


The Present Problem Or Happiness is the ultimate goal of gifts, right?

by Lukediedforoursins



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben Solo loves fashion, Ben is a romatic, F/M, Gift Giving, Gift-giving 101, Gravity-defiance, Lando is a rascal, Rey is practical as hell, Solo Family dynamics, but it works - Freeform, mature for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 21:12:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18225494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lukediedforoursins/pseuds/Lukediedforoursins
Summary: What do you gift to the woman who means everything to you and asks for nothing?





	The Present Problem Or Happiness is the ultimate goal of gifts, right?

**The Present Problem Or Happiness is the ultimate goal of gifts, right?**

 

Nic’cau Maak Avel, the ancient Coruscanti political philosopher whose treatise on leadership, _the Consul_ , had been the basis of the leadership modus operandi of a million galactic regaimes, the First Order included, had once written that _“There is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct, or more uncertain in its success, than to take the lead in the introduction of a new order of things.”._

 

Well Ben Solo Α.Κ.Α. “ _Supreme Leader Kylo Ren_ ”, “ _your Anal Retentiveness_ ’ and just “Ben” for the most breathtaking ex-scavenger turned Last Jedi this side of the Perlemian Trade Route ( _basically of the other side as well_ ), would respectfully disagree.

 

Yes, rooting out the major slaver’s dens had been hard and as of yet an unfinished business.

 

Yes, trying to work out new trading deals to replace the long-standing smuggling rings ( _well, more like_   _some long-standing smuggling rings, there were a few fine gentlemen and ladies of that illustrious guild he hadn’t brought himself to squashing yet_ ) was also the reason he usually went to bed with a raging headache for the last six months.

 

Yes, dealing with the indignant “ _staunch friends and faithful supporters of the First Order_ ” yapping on profits lost and the abolishment of “ _millenia of noble traditions_ ” of slavery and lawless profit without throttling any of them with his bare hands had been a true feat.

 

But no labor he had undertaken in his quest to bring back some semblance of order had ever seen as daunting as the one that lay ahead of him.

 

_What do you gift to the woman who means everything to you and asks for nothing?_

 

💠

 

Not that Rey had ever asked him for anything after that fateful time on the Supremacy.

 

Oh, his little skittermouse, she had toiled so hard in her short life and didn’t really comprehend the concept of presents until recently.

 

There were no gifts for her, never. Everything given was in exchange for a service she provided, her life a constant barter.

 

At first, days of toiling in the sun for some meager Imperial portions and a canteen of murky water.

 

Then, her clothes and the Falcon for her searching for Luke.

 

Food and board for helping the Resistance.

 

It even took ten Force Bond sessions to explain to her that no, he was not offering her food to get her to spend time with him ( _although it was a nay foolproof strategy_ ), he was offering it just because he cared for her. And then, the darling girl would go on insisting that he already gave her too much, that the straying cargo ships were enough to survive, that he shouldn’t spend precious resources so carelessly on her, that she should reciprocate, _there must be something broken in his room for her to fix, wasn’t there?_

 

At least her mindset didn’t include kisses and other… liberties as barter.

 

 _Thank the Maker for small mercies_.

 

His precious thrifty scavenger, thinking a plate of food was squandered upon her when he would gladly offer her the Mid Rim and still think of it as way below par a present.

 

But no, as much as he would love too, such … grandiose gestures simply wouldn’t do. Rey would have no idea what to do with an entire section of the Galaxy.

 

_Let alone that the Supreme Leader presenting a portion of the Galaxy to the Last Jedi he was supposed to consider his arch-nemesis might raise a few unwanted questions._

 

_No, it would have to be something a bit less… conspicuous._

 

_Could it be a dress, maybe?_

 

To be fair, under his mother’s stewardship, while not having an overabundance of resources, the Resistance was capable to give Rey some decent enough clothes to wear, by light years better than those scraps of linen he first saw her in.

 

Maybe a bit too practical and pale for his tastes. Had it been up to Ben, he would have chosen to see her in a long Fleuréline dress, blue or maybe a dark green, yes dark green, like the leaves on Takodana  to complement her hazel eyes, the cut austere and minimalistic since her face was a jewel beyond comparison in itself, yet close enough to her body to complement her lithe loveliness, perhaps a slit on the side to give a demure yet tantalizing glimpse of her toned calf she has so graciously allowed him to…

 

**_Not now, you idiot, focus!_ **

 

 

💠

 

 

From the jokes he used to hear his father make as a teen, he gathered that most men faced the intricacies of women’s fashions and  shopping with more dread than a battlefield.

 

Himself, he found it fascinating. Due to his childhood, most likely.

 

When he was but a little boy shy of six years, his Dada left home for Corellia for a few months to set up his shipping company, his “ _Across the Stars Caravan_ ” as he liked to call it. Mama stayed at home in Hanna City, yes, but she too had to go every day to the Big Senate to help the people who were “hurt by bad, bad people”.

 

Little Ben was very,very proud for his awesome parents, but he also missed them sorely, and every chance he got to be with them, he would jump on it no matter the occasion.

 

**_Doctor Callonia would often joke she never saw a boy more willing than myself to get his shots so long as his parents were with him._ **

 

So, on the rare occasion when Mama was not tired on a Benduday morning, she would wink at little Ben and ask “ _Guess where we are going today little Starfighter?_ ”

 

And little Ben would squee with joy, for that meant they would visit one of his favorite places, the “ _Jade Canopy Boutique_ ”, the most illustrious haute couture establishments in Hanna City.

 

The boutique, infamous for its exclusivity and strict criteria for choosing clients, would boast of counting some of the most influential women of the past decades among its patrons, including several Queens, Chancellor Mothma and Senators Amidala and Chuchi. The success of the fashion house was said to be partly the result of the comfortable and yet elegant shapes and characteristic finnish of their clothing lines and partly because of their unique showroom, a lush garden full of hidden nooks and crannies where every client and consultant would sample the finest of their wares in the peace and quiet of the verdant green and the fragrance of a hundred flowers.

 

Yet it was after the Alderaanian Destruction that the boutique would reach the true legendary status it came to get.

 

The garden was now the last monument to the planet of beauty now forever gonne, the manicured carelessness of the landscape the last true example of what an Alderaanian garden looked like and a source of solace for all survivors.

 

Naturally, the young Senator Organa was among their most frequent patrons.

 

Little Ben would be elated every time they visited the shop. The proprietress herself, Madame Sephyra Martam, a silver-haired woman originally hailing from Alderaanian nobility, would come to greet his Mama, embracing her fondly before kneeling down to give Ben two warm ( _and not slobbery at all, as other old women_ ) kisses on his cheeks and a tight hug.

 

Then, she would take his and Mama’s hands, and they would walk to the most secluded area of the garden, a tinny gazebo of white synthstone next to a crystal clear pond. And for the next four hours, Madame Sephyra would hold him in her lap, letting his browse the books of textile samples, feel them all with his tiny fingers, while patiently explaining to him their singular properties and best use, what design benefitted the most from them, which cuts would complement which body type, how to best utilise color to enhance the features of the lady wearing them.

 

And she would secretly sneak him a few extra Alderaanian milkcakes while they were at it.

 

Madame Sephyra was friends with his own grand-Mama once.

 

Maybe it was because she had no children of her own that she treated Leia and Ben not as select clients, but family after a point.

 

Most times Mama wouldn’t even buy anything, she would just spend time with Sephyra, eat the foods of her long lost home, drink some emerald wine and reminisce of people it pained her to speak of with anyone , perhaps the most carefree and happy her son ever saw her be.

 

And the kindness of the closest thing he ever got to a grandmother combined with the memory of his mother’s happy smile would make Ben Solo love the world of women’s fashion forever. Until he grew too old to be accompanying his mother to the shop ( _Han eventually found out and started grumbling Ben was “too old and not old enough to be under skirts all the time”_ ), he would actively give her advice on style and color. And as the time went by, first he would be humored by the consulting girls as “ _Benny our little colleague_ ”, but eventually even Madame Sephyra would his sense of style, “ _definitely coming from his grandmother_ ”.

 

He had loved the place so much. He had felt loved there, cared for, truly appreciated for his talent in the spirit of true camaraderie people with a common interest share.

 

How he longed to get Rey there. The Boutique was still open, he had been informed, operated by Lysandra, Sephyra’s assistant, with the old lady only visiting to fill her days of retirement. Yes,they could go back to the gazebo, to see her in perfect bliss from all the green and water, to drape he in muslin and taffeta and a hundred hues of velvet, to clad her in the luxury she truly deserved…

 

**_Maybe._ **

 

**_One day._ **

 

**_After that whole mess was cleared._ **

 

**_If it ever was._ **

 

But for now, a couture dress wouldn’t do. Ben was certain that being the Last Jedi  meant that Rey would be receiving gifts from the sponsors of the Rebellion, and being a literal ray of warm sunshine would mean that sometimes said gifts would be heartfelt gestures rather than mere means of carrying favor. Still, it would be difficult for her to explain where a top exclusive Jade Canopy thirty five hundred credit gown came from.

 

There were other types of gifts for women, of course. The memory of the days he learned of them would make Ben first smile, then blush and then somberly ponder every time.

 

💠

 

When Ben was fourteen years old, the “ _Association of Core Elder Houses for the promotion of Basic Education in the Outer Rim_ ” decided to host a gala in celebration of the eve of Leia Organa’s thirty eighth birthday.

 

His father was supposed to run in a charity race on Lothal for the establishment of a new orphanage two days before, so he would manage to be home the following day for the celebratory lunch at best. Luke had said that he would make to the event, but who ever knew with Luke, he once was supposed to be home for dinner for Hannun’s day and he came six months later, gifts in hand ( _thankfully he had not chosen blue cream and Jogan tartlets this time_ ) because he “ _ound a village that once hosted a survivor of Order 66, began reading her diary and quite lost track of time_ ”.

 

Thus, by society’s norm and sheer practicality alike, the task of serving as Leia Organa’s gallant escort for the evening fell on Ben’s still slim shoulders and filled him with dread.

 

Not that he was scared of the gala itself, of course. As much as he didn’t like big crowds, he has been practically raised in parties and state dinners and museum openings since he was capable of eating his own food without magnanimously sharing it with the carpet, his mother adamant that his table etiquette and ballroom dancing skills would be on par with any princeling in the Core. But it was one thing to be yet another kid coming along with his parents and another to be actually escorting the person honored that night.

 

It would mean he would have to engage in conversation instead of just shyly look at his plate ( _an art he had mastered to excellence_ ).

 

It would mean he didn’t just had  to lead his already shorter mother in a waltz, but any dame assigning him as her next dancing partner.

 

Worst of all, it meant that he would have to wear his first adult formal wear suit.

 

And Ben Solo, despite great knowledge on female gowns, was almost ignorant when it came to menswear.

 

Han Solo, for all the roguish charm and appeal he had, actually had no clue on style. As he had confessed to little Ben once “ _Kid, it’s a miracle my jacket even fits, it was just the closest thing to me that I could,eh, liberate from the cloth rack_ ”. Basically, the few times Ben went shopping with him, he just went to the same Corellian clothing chain he once _liberated_ his jacket from and bought a pack of ten shirts, ten pairs of socks, ten black pants with bloodstripes and ten undies to last him for the year.

 

As for Luke, his sense of style was random enough to turn out in ensembles varied from the  traditional elegant Jedi robes in pristine condition to a hand woven Wookie-hair poncho gifted by a holy hermit from Dinzo… and nothing else, to Leia’s apoplectic fit and Han’s almost stroke-inducing laughter.

 

And there was this _other purchase_ he needed to make.

 

Indeed, his father figures were disastrous when it came to schooling Ben in the art of formal menswear and _other purchases_. Only a miracle would save him.

 

💠

 

For once in his young life, his prayers were actually answered.

 

The said miracle arrived two days before the gala in the form of a maroon velvet clad Lando Calrissian.

 

As it happened, Lando Calrissian, famous gambler, smuggler and all around vagabond would never be accepted into an Elder Houses ball, half the noble hens clutching their pearls at his entrance. But Landonis Calrissian, scion of the most venerable ( _if impoverished_ ) House of Calrissian of the Socorro cadet branch, Baron Administrator of Cloud City, General and Hero of the New Republic was an absolute guarantee for the success of the night.

 

As usual, he just swept into the house, first giving Ben a tight hug ( _look at you, Starfighter, soon I’ll have to call you Star Destroyer!_ ), before turning to his mother to kiss her hand in an perfect, if somewhat exaggerated, show of courtly gallantry, with Leia rolling her eyes to give that _incorrigible rascal_ the patented Leia bearhug.

 

Of course, Uncle Lando never stayed with them when his father was not around. He claimed he _“wanted to steal the magnificent Princess from her ogre of a husband in a fair and square battle for the privilege of her affections”_ only for Leia to reply _“as if you need that excuse to give Senator Chiriyat an extra set of horns when he’s not at home, you rangy old goat!”_ and then always clap her mouth when she remembered Ben was around _,_ in the vain hope her little boy wouldn’t remember what his Uncle’s “ _tea parties_ ” with the Devanorian’s latest and very young wife meant in the future. Still,  Lando always made some time to dine with them in the evenings and Leia trusted him well enough to let him take Ben to fly-sims and wallball matches.

 

And he was in the “Best Dressed Man” and “Top Ten Most Eligible Bachelors” lists of twenty four different magazines of galactic popularity for ten consequent years.

 

So, when he bashfully asked him to help him with his first suit, the old gentleman was positively delighted, giving him a comic bow complete with cape flourish, declaring himself “ _Forever in the service of  his beloved nephew’s gentlemanly education“_.

 

 

💠

 

 

Judging by Lando’s style, one would guess that his tailor in Hanna City would as flamboyant at least, housed in a neon coloured shop, full of loud music and clashing colours and physics-defying plast monstrosities  most newcomers in the fashion industry seemed to favor.

 

It was a far from it as it could be.

 

The “ _Most Excellent Gentlemen’s Bespoke Fashions_ ” was located in a quiet row, far from the promenades of the main shopping district. Built in the traditional rural Chandrila fashion of floor to ceiling wooden interiors, it had an air of gentlemanly exclusivity and comfort. The sole tailor and proprietor ( _well, not really tailor, most of the work was done by sewing droids with him adding the finishing touches_ ) , a dignified middle aged man named Edigard Cormick was dressed in a muted wool suit to counterbalance the most magnificent flaming red beard Ben even saw ( _and was, quite, frankly, the only redhead he ever liked_ ). Respectful and mild-mannered, the tailor had such a polite and yet inviting way, a quiet ease and a subtle sense of humor  that made even the over-anxious Ben relax and start talking.

 

And apparently, as different as he was from Lando, tailor Cormick ( _“Edigard to you too, young Ben, I sincerely hope you will soon be a regular here and confidence between client and tailor is the paramount principle of our trade”_ ) had an acute eye for detail and a refined taste that complimented that of his famous client, as they both delighted in introducing the neophyte in the world of bespoke clothing.

 

First came browsing the fabric catalogues.

 

Tweed wool was too hot, cashmere too shiny, velvet too stuffy for a teen.

 

Brocade, as much as Lando utterly adored it, was universally agreed that did not match Ben’s general attitude.

 

Which left them silk. There was one sample especially, a slightly rougher matte one, that brought back memories from his days on Madame Sephyra’s knees.

 

“Is that Tussah silk?”

  
  
“Why yes Ben, it is Endorian Tussah!”, the tailor beamed at him.

 

And after that, the tone got even more companionable.

 

“Lapels, my dear boy”, Lando would pontificate, “can either make or break even the best tailored suit. A notch lapel will always be a safe choice and carry you from morning brunch till a nightcap in the boudoir. For a peak one, I would advice to wait for a couple more years for your shoulders to full out, but I sense that you will be carrying it magnificently one day.”

 

“And always stay away from shawl lapels unless you wear a tux, young Ben”, Tailor Edigard added, “unless you wish to be in the next Tacky Tuesday list”.

 

**_Snoke should have heard that lesson._ **

 

And then, there was the holiest of secrets, the most profound of advides, the most valuable knowledge to be shared, as Lando ( _quite dramatically_ ) proclaimed. He put his hands on Ben’s shoulders, looked him straight in the eye and somberly said:  
  
“The most defining article of clothing, the one which will utterly dictate the color of your suit is your cape. But, and I want you to remember this forever, the article that will dictate the color of your cape is your dame’s dress.”

 

“And why would my”, Ben blushed, “escort’s dress will dictate my cape?”

 

Lando gave out a laugh and Edivard a low chuckle.

 

“Why, when it gets cold you ‘ll have to be gallant and offer it to her, boy, and you don’t want a lady mad at you because it clashed with her dress in your pictures the morning after!”

 

💠

 

After Ben’s measurements were taken ( _they settled on a dark blue tussah silk with a white shirt and a light grey one-shoulder cape to match his mother’s silver gown_ ), Lando looked at him conspirationally.

 

“Well, nephew, since we have begun your initiation to the subtleties of a gentleman’s world, you are old enough to accompany me to my next endeavor. However, I would greatly appreciate it if it remained a secret between you and me. Your father may know, if you wish, but as far as your delightful mother is concerned I would wait for a few years”.

 

“And how many a few be?”, Ben teased.

 

“Why, at least until her gun license is revoked on grounds of extremely old age”, Lando winked back.

_**It would certainly not be long enough.** _

 

Turns out, the _endeavor_ Lando took him was buying lingerie for  his special friend the old Senator’s wife.

 

Ben Solo was a man of thirty years and a million sins. He had killed his father, his Master, almost his mother, almost his Uncle and countless others. He had witnessed horrors innumerate, some by his own hand, some as a mere spectator.

 

**_Hell, he was the Supreme Leader of the Galaxy, the iron fist of order in a chaotic world!_ **

 

And yet, whenever he remembered his visit with Uncle Lando to the “ _Posh Totties_ ” and it’s pink and interior of white plush carpets and tulle and lace covering almost any surface,he would always turn the unmistakable hue of Mustafarian lava and be in need of a very long and cold shower.

 

As it turned out, the lingerie shopping was as _Lando_ an occasion as anything. The owner of the shop, a statuesque and utterly gorgeous purple  Twi’lek woman slightly on the mature side was the one of Lando’s old flames and apparently remembered him in terms good enough to greet them _quite fondly_.

 

By _quite fondly_ , it meant she squealed in delight upon seeing “Lando, mah beloved old fwiend!”, gave him a welcome kiss bordering on a full makeout session and and an already embarrassed Ben, “Han’s and ze Huttslayew’s dahling boy, how you ‘ave gwown!”, a firm hug ( _and his already overly large nose so well acquainted with her soprano’s worth of a cleavage he could swear he felt steam still coming out of his ears two hours later_ ).

 

After their special welcome things naturally derailed.

 

Lando, ever the silver-tongued devil, required “ _he finest wares of her reputable establishment, the only capable of retaining the most temperamental diva’s capricious heart_ ”.

 

The lady, in honor of the Lothal famed tradition of libertine morals and apparently unaffected they were supposed to be for another one happily obliged them.

 

Then Lando, already sporting a glimmer in his eyes by mischief in his mind ( _and a few glasses of Chandrilan pear brandy in his gastric system_ ), played coy trying to choose a set, then _innocently_ proposed that perhaps a demonstration on the living, breathing body of the designer would give “ _her delectable creations the life that made them truly shine_ ”, to the lady’s immense delight.

 

From there, all went down on a landslide.

 

All save, of course, from the lady’s bosom, that seemed to hold up well, no, **_miraculously well_** , as it was paraded in front of them in decolletages varied from classilly sensual ivory satin nightgowns, to bright magenta matching skimpy sets ( _cut to evidence  that the lady’s posterior too was still defiant in the face of gravity_ ), to a racy concoction of an undoubtedly perverted mind, a black and amethyst lace corset so devoid of any actual cloth or coverage that Ben actually hid his face with a throw pillow, to Lando’s thunderous laughter and the lady’s purring “Oh, but he is a twue gentleman, young Ben, to give my nippules zeir pwivacy!”.

 

And Ben would always blame the grit in his adult voice on the sheer number of dry coughs he gave the next hour trying to discreetly remind the progressively more enraptured ( _and handsy_ ) Lando taking “ _a closer look to the material to appreciate the superior stitching of the decolletage_ ” that he was **_still in the Force-damned showroom too!_ **

 

Finally, **_finally_** , the left the shop with no present in hand, Lando finding his old appreciation of the lady ( _whose name Ben managed to never catch, somehow_ ) rekindled to the point of asking her to escort him to the gala, the young senator’s wife apparently _breasted out ._

 

Truly, even the idea of gifting such a...a...a thing to Rey was unfathomable.

 

Rey, for all the intoxicating mix of innocence and boldness her attitude towards their growing… _intimacy_ was, would surely be offended at the presumption of a lace negligee, of a satin brassiere, or one of those Spira-cut panties…

 

**_No, no time to think of Rey in Spira-cut panties, abort, abort!_ **

 

Nevermind how divine a sight she would be in those cute pieces of airy lace that served to better showcase the roundness of her pert little-

 

**_Great, just great, you are no better than a kriffing teenager Ben Solo, the only thing worse than thinking of Rey’s ass in lace pants during a strategic presentation is giving Hux ideas by having A RAGING HARD-ON in the middle of his kranking speech!_ **

 

**_Down boy, down!_ **

 

**_Shit, shit and shit again, quick, think something bad!_ **

 

**_Yes, the night of the gala, that will do._ **

 

💠

 

Really, it was all Ben’s fault, as usual.

 

After they left “ _Posh Totties_ ”, Lando in his best mood ( _titillated and slightly inebriated_ ), Ben had finally mustered the courage to tell Lando of his other purchase.

 

“Uncle, I… I need a little extra help for something.”

 

“But of course, my most beloved and only honorary nephew, what would that be?”

 

“I want to choose a suitable gift for a lady.”

 

“A lady?”, Lando boomed in the middle of the promenade,” my oh my, little Starfighter has found himself a little hangar! I am so proud of you my boy, that calls for a celebratory round of…”

 

“Νο, Uncle, that’s not what I…”

  
  
“Why, I know just the gift! There is this shop that sells the most innocent pyjamas, but with the pull of a hidden string the seams come apar-”

 

“NO, NO,Uncle I’m looking for a gift for Mama!"

 

“That is well and good, my dear boy, but I am pretty sure your exquisite mother will love whatever gift you make her, you do seem to have inherited her delicate tastes in everything but male companions after all-”

 

“It’s not a gift from me!Uncle… he forgot again.”

 

And by the way Lando’s face fell, Ben knew he understood.

 

“Tell me Ben, what do you have in mind?”

 

💠

 

Han Solo’s life had always been a true study in contradictions. Outlaw and General, Opportunist and Hero, Smuggler and Businessman…

 

**_Distant and Sacrificed..._ **

 

His ideas for gifts was, naturally, no exception.

 

For a man capable of telling you the exact sum a contraband cargo would fetch with accuracy of one credit, when it came to daintier merchandise such as art pieces, Han Solo was entirely clueless as to why those pieces were so pricy.

 

So, when it came to gifting things to Leia, art affacionada extraordinaire, he simply followed the rule of thumb “ _the more credits it costs, the better it is_ ”, with results that could be called dubious at best.

 

One time, it was a flower vase shaped like the head of Emperor Palpatine ( _after his unfortunate face treatment by Mace Windu_ ).

 

Another time, it was a set of matching night lamps for their bedroom made out of trash ( _actual trash, not salvaged pieces, for crying out loud_ ), monstrosities the work of the latest toast of the artistic circles of Hosnian Prime ( _that turned out to be a major fraud a month after that_ ).

 

Or a complete set of porcelain Nerf-herders, dressed in the style of Chandrilan comedic operrete, complete with a flock of Nerfs.

 

There was once a holo-music box. It might have been considered a tasteful gift, wrought in simple white and pink duraplast in the shape of a daisy, the tune a popular classic of Mon Cala, with a holo-ballerina gracefully dancing in the center... if the ballerina didn’t start stripping of her costume to a much baudier tune after a few minutes.

 

**_I have never seen Mama in a greater rage._ **

 

**_Or Uncle Luke laugh so hard._ **

 

 **_Or Dad run so fast_ ** _(“I swear I didn’t know sweetheart, I just watched the first two minutes, you know me and ballet! A pair of tits won’t hurt a five year old!”)_

 

**_Thank the Force the duraplast was light and Dad got just a bump on the head._ **

 

Yet still, despite her protests, Mama never threw any of them away. As she explained to little Ben, Papa may not have had the most artistically eclectic tastes, but every gift he made was from his heart, and she would keep them all in display in her office, surrounding herself with her husband’s love.

 

But, as the years passed, the gifts became less and less. Papa was more often than not away from Mama’s birthday for work, and quite forgetful of such customs anyway. Mama never complained openly about it and shrugged it off, but Ben could see her growing disappointment.

 

So that year, Ben took the situation at his hands. With the help of Lando, Mama would get  her gift, and a lovely one for once.

 

💠

 

The afternoon of the gala, Leia arranged for all of them to have a light supper before leaving the house, since the food served in these venues “costs ten times more than what actually gets in your stomach”.

 

Lando came in a dashing deep green brocade costume and black silk cape, with his lovely escort, ( _blessedly attired with an organza gown that did some cover_ ). To Ben’s even further embarrassment, the lady his name he hadn’t quite gotten in her shop turned out to be named Venus Cirial, a formerly celebrated member of the Resistance’s espionage and still in good terms with his mother and bearing a lovely creamy satin robe de chambre befitting a queen as a gift, accompanied by a set of silver and kajak-hair brushes from Lando.

 

Even better, Uncle Luke showed up on time, for once well-groomed and dressed in his Jedi black and white robes and carrying, apart from his customary Jogan fruit tartlets an exquisite antique brooch of mother-of-pearl.

 

Ben’s own gift to his Mama was an assortment of calming smelling salts for her bathroom.

 

All the presents delighted Leia, yet nothing gave her the sheer joy of the jade green package from the Jade Canopy; a pale lavender evening shawl, expertly drapped to fit snugly around the wearer, leaving the shoulders elegantly bare. And the most pleasing part of it? A small holo card, saying only “I wish I was there too, sweetheart”.

 

💠

 

**_Why did he father had to fuck this up again?_ **

 

They had almost finished the Jogan fruit tartlets when the doors burst in to reveal a slightly bedraggled but happy Han Solo in all his cocky charming glory. He just strutted in, tossing a “Hey kid” to Luke, a wink at Lando and Miss Venus and a quick shoulder squeeze and “Little buddy” to Ben before lifting a slightly protesting ( _but obviously pleased_ ) Leia in his arms for a shearing kiss, before flashing her his trademark lopside grin and a rugged “Surprise princess!”

 

Turns out Han left right after the race ( _that he won, of course_ ) and had to pull three favors for surpassing speed limit on bussy traderoutes to be at home in time for the gala eve. All he needed, he said, was a shower and something his lovely wife deemed acceptable.

 

It was all going well and the mood was merry, until Leia laughingly hugged his shoulders and teased him:

 

“Oh Han, you moof-milker, this is the greatest birthday gift I ever got, your other gift coming to a close second!”

 

Han huffed a chuckle.

 

“I got you a gift this year?”

 

**_Yes you bloody idiot, you did._ **

 

Lando and Ben were frantically nodding yes at him behind Leia’s back, but Han was too tired to immediately catch their meaning.

 

“Did I now? I mean.. Yeah, yes I did, I thought I might not reach the house in time…”

 

But it was futile.

 

Mama’s face had already fallen.

 

“You have forgotten again, haven’t you?”

 

“No, Leia, I…”

 

“Like you have forgotten for the last three years in a row.”

 

“I’m sorry Sweetheart, it’s just… you know I’m a rogue with no regard to social conventions…”

  
  
“Eating salad with the fish fork is flaunting social conventions, not forgetting to get your kriffing wife you leave apart from a gift on her kriffing birthday!”

 

“Well, it is a busy time of the year princess, and I did come, doesn’t that count?’

 

“Oh, as if I stay here lounging all day in the Senate!”

 

“Well, if Ben and Lando hadn’t bought you that scarf you wouldn’t say a word!”

 

“Don’t you dare bring Ben in this,he did this for the love of me  and has no business filling the gaps you leave-”

 

“Han, Leia, please”, Luke sighed, “we have to depart in half an hour now it’s not the time-”

 

“Hah, filling the gaps I leave? He should be out fillings a girl’s gap instead of hiding behind your skirts and shopping for scarves and panties-”

 

“Well thank the Maker I did not raise a brut like his father!”

 

“No, you raised a princely pansy instead! When I was his age I was already working for my bread with Proxima...”

 

Ben was sick of this.

 

Of them, fighting publically, always dragging him in the quarrel, speaking of him as if he wasn’t there…

 

_Go on, my boy…_

 

His hand coiled in a fist.

 

_There’s a way to stop them..._

 

Black anger gathered in his belly, bile bitter in his mouth.

 

_Yes, yes, that’s it..._

 

The glasses on the table started trembling.

 

_They never pay you any attention, don’t they? You are right to be angry…_

 

Luke noticed and turned to face him.

 

_Show them you are there, young Solo. UNLEASH YOUR TRUE POWER!_

 

“ENOUGH!”

 

The glasses shuttered in a hundred shards, miss Venus screaming, Lando paling, his parents finally, **finally** stopping their bickering to look at him with something Ben never saw in their eyes before.

 

**_Fear._ **

 

Only Luke kept his calm, gently taking hold of Ben’s fisted palm.

 

“Ben, I want you to seat on the sofa and take a breath for me my boy, can you do that?”

 

**_Mama and Dad fear me._ **

**_What have I done?_ **

 

‘Y-yes”, Ben answered shakily, collapsing  on the couch deflated and gulping deep, shuddering breaths, Luke’s gentle fingers prying his fist open.

 

The rest of the night went on in a blurr.

 

Han and Leia resumed their fight over whose fault was Ben got upset.

 

Lando finally grew sick of it, grabbing Han by the arm and manfully dragging him to his hotel room, giving him a piece of his mind or two on the road.

 

Miss Venus reached out to console his mother, but Leia had steeled herself again, merely asking of the Twi’Lek to accompany her to the gala.

 

And Ben was lead by Luke to his bedroom and let him tuck him in.

 

He would have never done so otherwise, but there was something comforting in having a member of his family actually caring for him for once. It was nice and gentle.

 

**_Much better than the Voice in my head._ **

 

“Uncle...I’m sorry.”

 

Luke stopped by the door and gave him a sad smile.

 

“Whatever for, my boy?”

 

“I… I shouldn’t have bought the shawl in Dad’s name… I… I just wanted to make Mama happy…”

 

Luke sighed and sat next to him in his bed.

 

“Oh Ben… I have had the joy of witnessing your parents’ relationship from the very first day they met. I assure you, I have travelled since across the Galaxy and have met only a few couples more loving of one another than the Princess and her Scoundrel. However… sometimes, loving your partner is no guarantee your relationship will run so smoothly…”, he gave a small laugh,”... or so I heard, it’s not like I have any first hand knowledge.”

 

“Still, I lost control, I shouldn’t have, most times I do the breathing exercises you told me but I can’t always keep my temper under control… Uncle… the Darkness calls to me..”

 

“As it does to all of us living,my boy. Still, maybe I could help you a bit more. How would you like coming to live with me for a while?”

 

💠

 

The next day, when Ben woke up, he found his Mama sitting alone in the living room, a cup of Gatalentan Tea in front of her. Her long, brown hair were uncharacteristically  unbound, a brown wavy waterfall with some grey beginning to show. Her usually vibrant face was drawn too, her eyes tired and deep set in their sockets, black circles maring her cheeks.

 

She looked lost, staring at the void in front of her, her hands caressing absentmindedly the lavender shawl in her hands.

 

_For the first time, she looked old._

 

At times like this, Leia Organa let down her mask of the Princess Senator, the steely General, the pint-sized dynamo. At times like this she was just his Mama, a woman tired and sad, with a marriage on shaky foundations and a son who had began to show worrying tendencies.

 

Ben couldn’t help but feel guilty again. He silently approached her and hugged her shoulders , placing a kiss on the top of her head.

 

That made her steer from her pensiveness. She quickly returned the hug with a small smile.

 

“Hey Benny”, she said in false cheer, “I never quite thanked you for the shawl. It’s just what I wanted to match my new beige gown!”

 

“Mom…”, his eyes, teared,” I’m sorry for everything.”

  
  
“Oh no, no no, my sweet boy, you have nothing to be sorry for, you hear me, nothing!”, Leia countered fiercely. Her soft hand cupped his cheek, her thumb carressing the tears away.

 

”If anything… we should beg your forgiveness. Sweetling”, her voice cracked too. “Your Dad and I… Well, you are old enough to hear this. Sometimes, distance takes a toll on relationships, my love, and we both have a temper in us to begin with. ”

 

Ben nodded.

 

“I want to to remember something, though. no matter what we say sometimes, no matter what happens next, your Dad and I will forever love you more than anything.” She opened her arms and he sunk into her warm embrace, inhaling the comforting scent of her nightgown, her day cream and just her, his small, strong Mama.

 

“Do you promise?”

 

**_They loved me._ **

 

**_Yes, they loved me._ **

 

“I promise.”

 

And there they stayed, his mother rocking him in her arms as if he was a baby again, her warmth and Light keeping the Voice at bay, his silent tears blessedly hidden in her long tresses, until Luke came in for breakfast.

 

💠

 

Things only got worse after that.

 

His parents stayed apart most of the time.

 

His temper tantrums got more intense.

 

The Voice got louder in his head.

 

The next year, he was sent off to Luke’s temple.

 

💠

 

**_Look at you, Ben Solo, reminiscing of sad days gone by  when you still have no idea what to get Rey._ **

 

At least it had cured his hard-on.

 

Once he retired in his chamber, he found himself in no mood for an afternoon training. Instead, he changed in his comfort wear and padded to the kitchen to make himself some tea, since KB-1310 was off on planetside leave for the day.

 

**_Ah, she must be back._ **

 

But there must have been something awry. Usually, his assistant and roommate would go straight to her kitchen, shouting down the corridor a snarky greeting at him. But no, this time he caught a glance of her sneaking silently in her room, crouching on her own lap as if to hide something she held.

 

_It could be some new foodstuff she found in the markets and was in no mood for sharing._

 

_Or she might be secretly smuggling something in to incite a mutiny, you never quite knew with that devil-woman._

 

_Anyway, no harm checking._

 

“Stormtrooper, smuggling unidentified objects in the apartments of the Supreme Leader makes you suspect of plotting treason!”, he boomed at her.

 

“Kriffing hell!”, she yelped. ”As if you ‘re not scary enough as you are, your Scowliness, you have to sneak on me now too?”

 

“I will do as I please to ascertain my safety in my chambers. Present the offending item at once!”

 

She scoffed and pulled back her cape, to present to him... a flowerpot.

 

With a small, leafy bush in it.

 

A sweet smell hut his nose.

 

**_Hmmm, Tionese ocimum. She’s just in mood for some noodles then._ **

 

She eyed him annoyedly, her black eyebrow arched.

 

“Is your Nosiness satisfied, Sir?”

 

“I am confident a little ocimum tioniensis will be no threat for the mighty Kylo Ren”, he allowed with exaggerated imperiousness. “Do tell me, assistant, how did a Tionese weed as such came in your possession in the Core?”

 

**_Ah, there it is, the blush._ **

**_Payback time for that hickie roasting!_ **

 

“I… The… The Captain found it in the market and thought it might please me to have something of my native planet to liven up my room.”

 

“And, pray, why would my Captain of Guards know of my assistant’s bedroom, let alone gift her some useless greenery?”

 

Alas, she was quicker in getting her wits together than he was when similarly compromised, the blush of embarrassment deepening to the red of the approaching Tionese Typhoon.

 

“ **TO WARD OFF YOUR EVIL PRESENCE, YOU MOOF-FACED GHOUL!”,** she screeched at him, tossing leaves at his face. **“Don’t you have plans of galactic domination to hatch, a Jedi cutie to moon over? Shoo, shoo, out of my kitchens, no dinner for you in the next four hours!** ”

 

**_Yes Mom._ **

 

He turned away to hide his smirk, his somber mood dispelled by ruffing KB’s feathers.

 

“It better be hand-made noodles in paat sauce if it takes four hours!”, he sing-songed back at her, huffing a laugh at the stream of Tionese filth that answered him.

 

_Hah, a potted plant?_

 

_CD-5689 would throw a fit if he missed that._

 

_How love makes even the most level-headed of people act like silly teenagers._

 

_What would be next, chocolates and Dantooine blue roses?_

 

_A loth-cat plush?_

 

_A potted plant…_

 

**_Oh._ **

 

**_Wait._ **

 

**_A potted plant!_ **

 

**_BUT OF COURSE!_ **

 

When he burst back in the kitchen, KB turned to shoot him with a new litany of fire and brimstone, only to have her insolent mouth for once shut by him grabbing her head and giving her a loud kiss on the forehead.

 

“You may be a pain in the ass, but sometimes you’re a treasure KB, do you know that?”

 

💠

 

Two days later, Ben sat on his desk chair, fidgeting anxiously.

 

By his estimates, the Force would be connecting them anytime now.

 

Next to his foot was a simple white flowerpot with a round bush of caprifoli.

 

_Simple and hardy enough, it was ornamental plant common in all Rims, and among the first to be spliced to survive even inside a spaceship._

 

_Inconspicuous._

 

_Sold in every market with a plant stall._

 

_Cheap enough to be either a gift of a grateful citizen or just a buy on a whim by Rey,, whose great love for plants was a fact for everyone knowing her._

 

At the sound of the familiar echoing void, he stood up to see his beloved materialize in front of him, dressed in a simple white tunic and soft lime green pants for an afternoon in her room.

 

**_Oh, no Supernova would ever be more bright than her smile, no constellation more intricate than the freckles dusted on her cheeks!_ **

 

**_Maker help me, I’m sappier than KB._ **

 

Quick as a little Minnock, she jumped up to his neck, encircling it with her arms and pulling him down for a kiss.

 

When, eventually, their mouths parted, she flashed another toothy grin at him.

 

“Hey”, she said with pure enthusiasm,”I’m so happy to see you today!”

 

“Why love, aren’t you happy to see me the other days?”

 

She mockedly frowned at him and nipped at his nose-tip.

 

_Damn those butterflies in his stomach!_

 

“Silly man, I’m extra happy to see you today! I have a surprise for you!”

 

_So evenly matched, even in their sense of gift timing._

 

“Great, I have something for you too today.”

 

“But you always do!”

 

“Well, not just food and my heart.”

 

“Your heart will suffice for today, because I ‘ll be doing the feeding”, she giggled as she Force-pulled a platter to her hands. “Ta-dah! Rosey found a Haysian merchant today and bought the ingredients to make purple brownies! Send whatever KB made back with my compliments, we’re definitely having those with tea!”

 

“Yes ma’am, but first, let me give you my little something too.”

 

“Nothing about you is ever little, Ben.”

 

**_Minx._ **

 

Blushing, he grabbed the pot and extended it to her.

 

Rey paused, her eyes transfixed on the little bush and the cream-gold fragrant blossoms.

 

**_Did she not like it?_ **

 

“Ahem, Rey, darling, this is Caprifoli vulgaris. It is a plant common across the Galaxy, supposedly spread around by the original colonist from Corusant. It requires minimal watering and has been genetically modified to survive even in artificial light. You may also have heard of it called…”

 

“...Honeysuckle…”

 

“... Yes! Do you… do you like it?”

 

Rey extended a tentative hand to the little plant, tenderly caressing a green plump leaf.

 

And now she will lean and smell the flowers.

  
That’s what Lando said all ladies do.

 

But instead, Rey drew back.

 

**Oh no, she didn’t like them, you idiot! She is so practical and in the middle of a war, what use are flowers to her, you should have gotten her a set of tools instead!**

 

She reached out for the top of the plant…

 

**_Ah, she’ll cut a blossom and smell it, silly me, of course…_ **

 

And forcefully fisted all of the flower, cutting them off while beaming up at him.

 

**_What the actual fuck?_ **

 

“Oh Ben, how did you know?”

 

“What did I know?”

 

“Honeysuckle flowers make the best tea in the Galaxy! Did you… see it? Back on Starkiller?”

 

**_Will I ever repent for that sin?_ **

 

**_Most likely not._ **

 

“No, no, I wasn’t, uh, looking so intently around, I, I just thought you may like it…”

 

“Are you serious, dear, I love it! When I was little and got a very good haul, Mashra the Aqualish, you know her, I told you the kindly scavenger I worked for as a kid, would give me some hardtack and a cup of honeysuckle tea on the side! How I missed it, and her, when we parted ways! That was the only food I had that wasn’t a ration for years  and no one else in Niima had a honeysuckle bush to trade afterwards.”

 

And then, blossoms still in her fists, she reached out and hugged him and the pot he held, a squeeze different from the embraces they usually shared, pure and sweet and full of gratitude.

 

And as she turned and started to fill her instant warmer to boil water, the clutter of cups and plates faint across the Bond, Ben let the floewrpot down.

 

He had done his study in his choice of plant, carefully picking up the flower to convey his eternal devotion to his Rey through an old vocabulary of flower language.

 

He even chose personally the bush whose flowers reminded most of Rey, the golden-cream color resembling the colors she favored in her clothes and ( _as he thought to himself_ ) the color of her skin.

 

And yet, where he saw a subtle message, the flower a symbolic gift a lady was supposed to delight in its sweet smell and discreet beauty, Rey saw the practicality, as always.

 

_But what if she didn’t take the traditional approach to his gift?_

 

_She had liked it all the same._

 

And Ben had long before learned that the true value and beauty of a present lay in the eyes of the recipient.

 

If Rey liked it as a tea herb, then a tea herb it would be, and he would treasure it for it.

 

 **_Dad was right, social conventions can go hung themselves_ **, Ben though, and he crouched down on Rey’s bunk, accepting his cup of tea and brownie piece.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
